More than a brother
by Tishtriya
Summary: Sam Winchester grew up motherless, with a father who wasn't around often. But he always had Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** If I do stick to what I've planned, this story will be a series of one-shots - one for each year of Sam's life.

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"Come on, Sammy, say _Dada,_ " says the tall man who is always around. Sammy knows he is Daddy, but he can't quite say it yet. Oh, he tries, but his tongue feels heavy around the word, and he only ends up babbling.

"Da-da," repeats the man. "Come on, you can say it, Sammy."

Sammy tries to say it, but he can't.

"Can you say _Dean_ , Sammy? _Dean_?" says Daddy.

 _Dean!_ Sammy thinks, clapping his hands at the name, chuckling.

He knows who Dean is, of course. The boy sitting next to Daddy now, smiling widely at Sammy; the boy who kisses Sammy's cheek every night before Sammy goes off to sleep, and is there in Sammy's crib every morning when Daddy wakes them up.

Sometimes, when Sammy wails at night crying because his gums itch and he wants something to gnaw at, Dean puts his thumb into Sammy's mouth, letting Sammy bite at it to lessen that itchy feeling in his mouth. When Sammy's sobs turn to soft sniffles, Dean kisses Sammy's cheek again, putting a warm arm around Sammy's middle, tugging him so close that Sammy feels all warm and happy.

But Dean never talks, Sammy has noticed that. Sometimes, Dean cries. Some nights he cries a _lot_ , and Daddy takes Dean into his arms and whispers words in Daddy's deep voice that finally make Dean stop crying. But Dean never cries like Sammy – not loud wails that bring Daddy running to him. Dean cries soundlessly, only his face turning all red and tears falling down his eyes, and sniffling and breathing all strange until Daddy rubs his back gently, pressing kisses onto Dean's brow.

"Come on, Sammy. You can say it. _Dean_ ," says Daddy again.

Sammy tries but his words only come out as a jumble of _aa_ s and _da_ s.

"Dean," Daddy turns to Dean now. "Maybe Sammy will speak if you tell him to."

Dean only shrugs, looking away from Sammy now, his fingers fiddling with the fluffy rabbit he carries everywhere.

"Don't you want Sammy to speak?" Daddy tells Dean. "He does everything you do, doesn't he? He crawls after you everywhere to follow you, and eats only when he watches you eating. Maybe he isn't speaking yet because he's waiting for you to speak. Come on, tell Sammy to say _Dean_. You want Sammy to say your name, don't you? It'll be Sammy's first word. You want Sammy to talk, don't you?"

Dean watches Sammy now, eyes wide and suddenly teary. He seems to be struggling with something, and Sammy slaps his hands onto the floor, making to crawl towards Dean. He doesn't like crawling much, though. He wants to walk like Daddy and Dean do, then he can follow Dean around everywhere faster. Dean has tried to make Sammy stand up, but he always falls, knees trembling, unbalanced.

"Dean," Daddy whispers to Dean again. "Come on, you can talk to Sammy. He hasn't heard you talk for so long now. You don't even wish him good night when we put him to bed. Don't you want him to hear you? Don't you want to hear Sammy speak? Come on, you're my brave little boy, aren't you? Talk to Sammy, Dean."

Dean nods now, and Sammy notices he's beginning to cry. He doesn't like seeing Dean cry. Sammy tries to stand up now, to go to Dean faster. His legs feel all strange and wobbly as he tries to stand like he's seen Dean do.

Daddy's smiling at him now, arms outstretched to hold Sammy if he falls. But Sammy doesn't want to go to Daddy, he wants to go to Dean.

"Dee!" says Sammy loudly, standing up on trembling legs, hands held out for Dean, telling him not to cry. "Dee! Dee! Dee!"

Daddy laughs loudly – it almost startles Sammy. He's never heard Daddy laugh so loud before. He's so startled that he begins to fall, scrunching his face up, about to cry, because he knows he's going to fall on his bum and it will hurt him like it did last time he fell.

But before he falls, Dean catches him, and Sammy feels the familiar warmth of Dean around him.

"Sammy," he hears Dean whisper in his hair. Dean's voice is rough and so soft that Sammy wonders if he really spoke.

But then Daddy's gathering both of them into a hug, Dean and Sammy pressed tight against each other, Daddy's large arms around them.

"Thank God," Daddy's saying; it doesn't sound like he's talking to either Dean or Sammy. "Thank God."

"Daddy," says Dean, his voice breaking on the word, and he begins to cry, his little arm around Sammy. It isn't the silent crying Dean did all these days – but he's crying noisily, much like Sammy does, and he's speaking too, a string of broken words. "Mommy—I want Mommy—"

Daddy only clutches them tighter, and Sammy begins to struggle against his hold, wanting Daddy to put down both of them so that Sammy can play with Dean now, try to stand and walk towards him again because he knows Dean will always be there to hold him if he falls.

"I know, Dean, I know," says Daddy, and Sam's surprised to see that Daddy's crying too. "I miss her too… but we'll be alright, Dean. We'll be alright – Sammy, you, and me."

"Dee! Dee!" says Sammy, and when he looks up at Dean, he sees him smiling at him – the one special smile he smiles only at Sammy – even through the tears.

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 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading :)


	2. Chapter 2

Sammy is tired, and annoyed, and angry.

He doesn't like this place. He doesn't have his high chair, and he doesn't have his crib. Daddy and Dean and he keep moving around to new places with strange smells and creaky beds, and he doesn't like it at all. He doesn't like all the time they spend in the car too, with Sammy strapped to the car seat, all hot and itchy and unable to move around, and with no Dean, because Dean sits in the front with Daddy.

"No!" Sammy declares stoutly, banging his spoon on the table. He doesn't want the mushy thing in the bowl that Daddy is making him eat. He wants _chocolate_! He cannot pronounce it all that well, but he loves eating it – it's all sweet and tasty. He loves sucking on it, because Dean's told him he's only supposed to suck on it and not swallow it whole or it'll get stuck in his throat and hurt him. He knows Daddy has a big bar of chocolate in his jacket pocket; Sammy saw Daddy buy it in the afternoon when they stopped at some strange place where Daddy and Dean ate burgers that Dean seemed to love, while Sammy only had to drink yucky milk.

"Sammy," sighs Daddy; he sounds like he's annoyed. "You have to eat this. Enough of all the tantrums now."

"No, no, no!" shouts Sammy. He points straight at Daddy's pocket, where he knows he's hidden the bar of chocolate, all sweet and delicious.

"No," says Daddy firmly. "No chocolate until you finish your oatmeal."

"NO!" yells Sammy, throwing the spoon away. He doesn't want the yucky oatmeal. He wants chocolate, and then he wants to go to sleep in his crib, not on the creaky bed next to Daddy. He wants his own crib, where he wakes up in the morning and finds Dean on one side of him, curled around him, keeping Sammy warm, while Dean's fluffy rabbit with the long ears lies on his other side.

"Sammy, no throwing things!" says Daddy sternly, taking another spoon and putting it in the bowl.

"Don't want!" says Sammy stubbornly.

"Sammy, finish your oatmeal, and then you can have the chocolate. Come on, I'll feed you."

"NO!" screams Sammy. He pushes the bowl away furiously, watching it careen towards the edge of the table, hoping it falls off, but Daddy catches it before it can fall, and plops it back on the table in front of Sammy.

"Enough, Sam!" says Daddy; his eyes are large and he's standing up now, staring down at Sammy.

Sammy feels tears pricking at his eyes. Daddy calls him _Sam_ only when he's angry with him.

"Dean!" whines Sammy, turning to Dean who's sitting there silently, staring at Daddy and then at Sammy again. He knows Dean doesn't like to see him cry. He knows that because Dean says that Sammy's real smart. He knows that if he scrunches up his face and wails a little, Dean always gives in to everything he says.

"Pwease, Dean!" says Sammy, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. "I don't wanna eat this! I want the—"

"Sammy, I told you," says Daddy, "No chocolate until you finish your oatmeal. Open your mouth now, come on."

"Dad, he doesn't want to eat the oatmeal," says Dean, his hand reaching out to Sammy, but Daddy gently pushes Dean's hand away from him.

"He's hungry," says Dean, "and he only drank milk in the café—maybe he can just eat the chocolate today—"

"No, Dean," says Daddy firmly. "Sam's old enough now, and we've been spoiling him a lot. It's time he learns to take a no, and do what he's told to. Now, Sam, open your mouth, you're going to finish your dinner and then go to bed. No chocolate for you today because you're being a very bad boy."

Daddy holds both of Sammy's hands together, so that he can't push the spoon away like he usually does, and then he tries to put the spoon into Sammy's mouth.

"No—" Sammy tries to shout, but Daddy is smart too, and when Sammy opens his mouth to shout the _no,_ Daddy puts the spoon with the yucky oatmeal right into his mouth.

"NO!" Sammy sputters and coughs and then spits it out, sniggering when he sees that he's sprayed it all over Daddy's jacket. He looks at Dean, hoping Dean is laughing too, but Dean is all quiet and wide-eyed.

"Sam Winchester!" shouts Daddy. "No spitting out your food! How many times have I told you that!"

Daddy's standing over him now, eyes big and angry-looking, and Sammy's suddenly scared. His lip starts to tremble, and there's a large lump in his throat, and then Sammy's crying, loudly, noisily.

"Dad, he's crying!" says Dean. He gets off his chair and comes to Sammy, wiping off his tears with his hands.

"Let him cry," says Daddy. "He's growing up now, and he needs to be a big boy. We can't give in to everything he says every time he starts crying. I'll go clean this up." Daddy takes off his jacket. "You finish your dinner and go to bed. I'll handle Sam."

Daddy walks away as Sammy keeps crying. He doesn't want Daddy to be mad at him, but he doesn't want to eat his dinner. He doesn't like how it tastes, and he's tired, and he's hungry, and he's sleepy too.

"Dee!" he cries in between his sobs. He knows he's supposed to call Dean _Dean,_ but sometimes, Sammy wants to call him _Dee_ like he used to when he was little… like now, when Dean drags his own chair close to Sammy's, and rubs his hand on his back and holds him oh so close, until his sobs only turn into soft sniffles.

"Daddy's not mad at you, Sammy," says Dean quietly. "Daddy's just sad because he's missing Mommy, and because he was talking to somebody in the phone booth in the afternoon, and then he got angry at the man. He's not angry at you, alright, Sammy?"

That makes Sammy feel a bit better, but he still _is_ hungry, and not for the stupid oatmeal.

"Look, if you finish this, I'll tell Dad to take us to the park tomorrow. The one we went to when we were here last month, do you remember?" says Dean.

Sammy doesn't remember it, not really.

"We both sat on the swings together, and we ate the cotton candy after that, remember? It was all pink and sweet," says Dean.

Sammy smiles now. He does remember that. He does want to eat the cotton candy again, and then go to the park and sit on the swings with Dean.

"And there were all the airplanes in the sky every now and then, remember?" says Dean, "They were going _zoom, zoom, zoom_!"

Dean has a spoon in his hand, and he's moving it high up above Sammy's head, making funny noises and swinging the spoon around, making Sammy laugh.

"You have to catch the plane, Sammy!" exclaims Dean. "Come on, open your mouth, and catch the plane!"

Dean's hand moves swiftly, zooming and zooming as he makes loud airplane noises, Sammy opens his mouth, trying to catch the plane, Dean taking his hand away every time Sammy gets close to the spoon, until finally, he finds the spoon in his mouth, reflexively swallowing all the oatmeal.

"Dean!" Sam protests, annoyed that Dean cheated him. He didn't want to have the yucky oatmeal. But despite it, Sammy's still chuckling, because Dean's laughing too – that special laugh which Sammy loves so much, with Dean's eyes all bright and his cheeks all pink and when he's all happy, when he laughs because Sammy's laughing, and Sammy laughs because Dean is.

"Let's see if you can catch the plane again, alright?" says Dean, quickly dipping the spoon into Sammy's bowl and swinging it above him again. " _Zoom! Zoo—oom!"_

Sammy's smiling and laughing and by the time they're done playing, Sammy's caught the plane a lot many times, and his bowl of oatmeal is all empty.

When he hears Daddy's loud chuckles joining in Dean's laughter, Sammy sees that Daddy's standing there, watching them both.

"Look, Dad, Sammy's finished all his dinner!" exclaims Dean. "You can give him his chocolate now! Sammy's been a good boy!"

Daddy comes over to them. He ruffles Dean's hair and tells him that he's a very good brother, and then lifts Sammy into his arms, wiping his face with a towel, and then kissing his brow.

"I'm sorry I scared you, Sammy," says Daddy quietly.

"Sammy sowwie too, Daddy," says Sammy, chuckling when Daddy kisses his cheek, and his stubble tickles him.

That night, long after Sammy's finally gotten to eat his chocolate and he's tucked into his bed, when Daddy's sitting out in the other room watching TV, Dean slips into Sammy's bed.

"You awake, Sammy?" whispers Dean.

Sammy grins, always so glad when Dean curls his arm around him.

Dean hands him a piece of chocolate. "This is for you."

Sammy's eyes go wide. He knows it's Dean's. Daddy gave one piece to Sammy and one piece to Dean.

"Yours," says Sammy.

"I saved it for you," whispers Dean, giving it to him.

Sammy only sinks his teeth into it, biting into half of the piece. He grabs the other half and puts it into Dean's mouth.

"For you, Dean."

Dean smiles, teeth white in the semi-darkness, eyes so bright. It's the smile Sammy loves – all wide and happy, when Dean looks at him like he likes Sammy more than his toy car and more than the floppy-eared rabbit and more than the burger he had and maybe more than everything.

"Sammy," he says softly, before he puts his arm around Sammy, tugging him close, and kissing his cheek. "Love you, Sammy."

"Wuw you too, Dee."


	3. Chapter 3

Sammy is afraid. He cannot sit still, and he's fiddling with Dean's old fluffy rabbit. One of its eyes is falling out, making the rabbit look sad and sort of scary. It only makes Sammy feel more nervous. He puts the rabbit away, swinging his legs now.

He's afraid because it's his first day of school. It isn't going to be like Dean's school – the one that he started going to last week. Sammy's school is for littler kids. He won't have to carry books and pencils like Dean does. Only the new set of crayons and the pretty new book Pastor Jim gave last night.

He wants to colour in his new book… with Dean, of course, because he always draws stuff for Sammy to colour – apples and the Impala and fishes and balloons. Sometimes, when Sammy cannot colour within the shapes, Dean holds his hand and colours with him – those are the times Sammy loves best. But Dean didn't let him open the new set of crayons yesterday. He said Sammy could open them in school, with all the other kids who'll be there.

But Sammy doesn't want that. He doesn't want other kids around, he doesn't want to colour anything with them, and he doesn't want to go to school. He told Dean that too – that he only wants Dean and he doesn't need other kids. But Pastor Jim said that Sammy needs to meet other children like him, make new friends, learn to read and write like Dean does.

"Sammy," says Dean softly. He's smiling at him, and Sammy almost smiles back at him before he remembers that he's supposed to be mad at Dean.

Dean's the one who told Daddy that Sammy has to go to preschool. Daddy said he didn't need to, but Dean went and told Pastor Jim that Dean used to go to preschool at Sammy's age, so now Sammy has to go too. Dean said whatever he gets, Sammy has to get too.

"Sammy," says Dean again. "You don't have to be afraid. School will be fun!"

"I'm not scared," says Sammy, huffing. "I'm not a baby. I'm a big boy now."

"Of course, you're a big boy. That's why you have to go to school, okay? Come here."

Sammy huffs again, and then jumps off the bed, walking towards Dean.

Dean combs Sammy's hair with a comb, and then sits him down on the chair, putting his feet into the new pair of socks they bought at the store the other day, and then tugs his shoes on, Dean's tongue peeking out from between his lips as he ties the shoelaces tight.

"Dean," says Sammy quietly, suddenly scared again.

Dean looks at him now, and Sammy marvels at how green Dean's eyes look in the sunlight flooding in from the windows. It's a very pretty green, and Sammy hopes the new crayons have a colour like that, so that he can colour Dean's eyes green next time he draws him.

"What is it, Sammy?" asks Dean.

"What if nobody likes me?" whispers Sam. He feels strange now that he's finally told Dean that – all light and hopeful, because he knows Dean will set things right. He always does. "What if I don't get friends?"

Dean watches him. He doesn't laugh at Sammy's fears – not that Sammy thought he would, but it's nice that Dean didn't make fun of him. Dean is _never_ scared of anything; not even when the skies roar aloud at night, with flashes of lightening, when it rains so heavily that it makes Sammy feel a little scared. But Dean is never frightened; he pulls Sammy towards him, and holds him so close that Sammy can hear the soft thud-thud-thud of Dean's heart against his ear, a soothing lullaby that puts him to sleep even as Dean whispers that it'll all be okay and nothing can hurt Sammy as long as Dean's with him.

"Sammy, look at me," says Dean. "Everybody will like you, okay? I promise you."

"Yes?" asks Sammy hopefully.

"Of course! They'll all love you. Nobody can _not_ like you! You're…" Dean falters, "Well, you're _Sammy!_ " he says, as if that's reason enough for all the other kids to like him and be his friend, as if that one word describes everything that he is, stuff that Dean doesn't and maybe cannot say out loud, but that Sammy understand nevertheless.

He puts his arms around Dean, hugging him tightly, grinning when Dean holds him close, feeling all warm and safe and happy.

"You don't worry, alright? It's easy to make friends anyway. I had friends too when I was in preschool. Tom and Mike."

"Tom and Mike?" repeats Sammy warily. He never knew that Dean had friends. Dean never even mentioned them to him. Sammy doesn't like them already. He thought _he_ was Dean's friend. Dean's _only_ friend, like he is Sammy's. "Where are they now? Tom and Mike?"

"They're—well, they're in Lawrence, I guess. They used to live near our house," says Dean. He looks suddenly sad now, like he does whenever he draws their old house with the tree in front of it. Sammy doesn't remember it, of course. He was too little back then. He knows Daddy and Dean miss the old house, though. He heard them talking about it one night. Sammy wonders whether Dean misses Tom and Mike too.

"Do you miss them?" asks Sammy. "Tom and Mike?"

"No," says Dean. "I don't really remember them much. It was long ago."

But he still looks sad, and Sammy can't help but put his arms around Dean's middle again, hugging him tight.

"Don't be sad, Dean! I'll be your friend!"

Dean laughs – a happy sound that makes Sammy laugh too. "You are already my friend, Sammy. My best friend."

Sam smiles happily. "You are mine too. Forever and ever!"

Dean only grins wider, smoothening Sammy's hair with his fingers. "Come on now. Let's get you to school. Dad must be waiting for you in the car."

But when they go outside, Sammy sees that Daddy is walking towards them instead of waiting in the Impala.

"Sammy." Daddy bends down, facing Sammy. "I'm sorry, kiddo, but I've to go now. There's some work I've got to do."

"Dad, it's Sammy's first day at school! You promised you'll take him in the car!" protests Dean.

" _Dean_ ," says Daddy. Somehow, that one word shuts Dean up. He says nothing more, though he's still restless standing next to Sammy.

"Pastor Jim will take you, alright, Sammy? I'll be back in three days. Jim will take care of both of you." Daddy kisses Sammy's brow, and then pats Dean on his back, and then off, the Impala roaring loudly as it leaves them.

Sammy finds that his lower lip's trembling now, tears pricking at his eyes. Daddy had _promised_ him – that he'll take him to school, and then come and pick him up, and then take Dean and him to the park to play, and then they'll all eat ice creams together. But Daddy's gone now… and he's not coming back for _three_ days! They'll be all alone here, with Pastor Jim.

"Sammy," says Dean softly. "It'll be okay, Sammy. I'll come with you to school, alright? We'll go together with Pastor Jim, and then I'll come with him to pick you up too. On the way back, you can tell me all about your day, and then we can colour together! In your new book, with your new crayons, and then we can ask Pastor Jim to take us to the park. I'll push you on the swings, and we can make sandcastles in sandbox—"

"Two sandcastles?" asks Sam. He knows that Dean doesn't like to play in the sand. He likes to play on the tall slides and with the large ball Daddy got them the other day, and climb up high on the monkey bars.

"Two sandcastles," confirms Dean.

"And we'll have ice cream too?" asks Sam.

"Two ice creams," says Dean. "Chocolate and strawberry, because I know you like both."

Sammy nods, happily. "And you'll hold my hand all the way till the classroom?" whispers Sammy. He hadn't told it to Daddy, because he wanted Daddy to know he's a big, brave boy like Dean. But now that it's only Dean, Sammy wants him with him.

"I will," promises Dean.

Later that night, when Sammy's lying in bed next to Dean and telling him about the three new friends he made, when he's all full with too much ice cream, and all sleepy with all the playing he did in the park, Dean asks him quietly, "Are you missing Dad, Sammy?"

Sammy nods in the dark. Daddy's never been away from them before, not like this, overnight, and for three days after that. There's Pastor Jim, but Sammy doesn't even know him well.

"I'm sorry Dad isn't here, but I'll always be here, okay, Sammy? You don't need to be scared. I'll never leave you."

Sammy smiles in the dark, curling his fingers in Dean's soft shirt, shutting his eyes when Dean's hands rubs on his back in soothing circles, knowing that he'll be fine as long as he has Dean.


End file.
